


Clasping at Silk Sheets

by ccbgb



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anger, Cussing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Foreshadowing, commitment issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:34:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccbgb/pseuds/ccbgb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stal is a hard-headed Inquisitor, her temper always flaring at the slightest provocation. Solas had no idea that confessing his feelings for her would incite her anger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clasping at Silk Sheets

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

Stal froze, her hand on his chest, his lips brushing around the tip of her ear. It wasn’t until he gently bit down on the cartilage did she finally find the will to move again.

Her hand went into motion, pushing him away. “Don’t.”

Solas stopped immediately, his own body stiff and distant. Stal didn’t care, though. For the first time in their relationship she was unhurt by the way he would suddenly grow cold and far. To be quite honest with herself, she didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought of her at this moment.

She clambered out of bed, grabbing one of the silk sheets out from under his body to cover herself. The sheets had once made her angry- _I am no shem queen and I do not expect to be treated as one-_ but now she silently thanked Josephine for insisting she keep them. The silk was a comfort against her scarred body and allowed her some amount of protection.

Her feet carried her out onto the balcony, towards to evening air. Inhaling, she filled her lungs with the bitter scent of cold. A breeze swept past her, drying the beads of sweat that had formed along her hairline and her shoulder blades. Her hand tightened on the silk sheet around her. She refused to be as vulnerable to him as his words had made her feel.

She felt his footsteps behind her on the stone floor. He was no rogue- her ears had twitched at the first sign of displaced air. Her shoulders tensed and the footsteps stopped. Perhaps he knew.

“Stal-“

“I don’t want to hear it,” she growled. Her front teeth bit at her bottom lip, anxious.

“If we do not talk about it-“

“It’s unhealthy, it can destroy a relationship, ya-ya-ya,” she muttered. She tasted copper. Her teeth had drawn blood.

“I will take my leave then.”

Stal sucked at her bottom lip, stemming the blood. She heard no footsteps towards the door, no shifting of cloth as he turned to leave. Instead she felt his hard stare on the back of her head, her bare shoulders. The sheet covered everything else but it was a small comfort. Under his gaze she felt naked.

His silence shook her. Small tremors wracked her hands, twitching and shaking beyond her will. She balled her hands into tighter fists, her fingernails biting into one palm, the others doing their best to tear the silk sheets. Her breath became ragged and she clenched her jaw tight in an effort to control her body. Air hissed between the gaps of her teeth. Still she had not heard him move. Even his breath, quiet and controlled, seemed to mock her.

She whipped about, finally losing the last of her control. “ _Get out!_ ” she screamed, blood and spit flying from her cut lip.

Solas stood there, quiet and unmoved, watching her. He had not dressed, his bare chest golden with the light of the fast approaching sunset. She dared not look at it, at _him_. Her eyes averted to the mussed bed and hot tears threatened to spring from her eyes. She refused. She was leader of the Inquisition, spy and lead hunter for the Lavellan clan, _and she would not let him see her cry_.

He finally spoke: “Vhenan.”

Stal allowed herself to look back at him. Her chest was heaving, struggling to regulate her breathing and he stood there placid as a halla out to graze. Her fury did not falter.

“Don’t _call me that_!” she spat, tears spilling unwillingly from her eyes.

“You had no issue with the word until now.”

“I had no issue with its usage until now!”

“You assumed it a pet name, not a serious declaration of adoration?”

“Stop it! Just stop with your fancy shem words and your, your, your damned clever tongue! Dread Wolf take you, just _get out of my damned room!_ ”

Stal couldn’t feel her body. Her rage had made her eyesight blur, her body sweat, and her limbs shake. The only indication of what she may look like was the taste of blood on her tongue.

Solas’s façade was cracking. She saw it, hints of emotion in his lined forehead, in his curled toes. His pinky on his left hand twitched almost imperceptibly and still, in her state, she caught it. As Varric oft told her, she was more of a rogue than a woman- yet she could not crack him. She could not sway him even with her blood and tears to leave her room. He was infuriating.

“Your anger is truly something to fear,” he said quietly, “I always knew someday I would be it’s recipient but I did not imagine it so soon.”

Stal didn’t want to look at him anymore. She turned back to the balcony, hurriedly rubbing her eyes to clear her vision. Her hands came back chilled and wet. There had been more tears than she thought.

His hand was on her shoulder. She thought to shake it off but his grip was that of metal in winter. Strong and so cold she thought it might burn.

His other hand gently touched her free hand. She jerked her hand away with a low growl in her throat. He reached about and grabbed it again, this time more firmly, and pressed his thumb on the inside of her wrist. The fist relaxed and her fingers unfurled. Four red crescents across her palm welled with blood, striking new additions to the myriad of white scars that already covered her hand. His pale thumb wiped across the split skin, wiping the blood away. On his second pass she felt the tingling sensation of magic and when his thumb had made its third pass the red crescents were naught but scars.

“I don’t dare be the one to tell Josephine what you may have done to those silk sheets,” he murmured from behind her, gripping both her shoulder and her wrist.

“They’re nothing as compared to what I’ll do to you if you’re not out of here in 5 seconds.”

His grip faltered and he sighed, defeated. His hands left her. Somehow, in the midst of her rage, she felt a pang of guilt.

“If you truly do not wish me here, I shall go,” he said.

This time it was no false promise. She heard his footsteps move back towards the bed; his hands fumbling with the cloth of his shirt; his soft sighs as he gathered his things. As the footsteps moved towards the stairwell her resolve began to weaken. His feet were on the last stair before the door, his hand touching the metal of the doorknob when it all came crashing down upon her. She sunk to the stone floor, the sheet forgotten as her hands covered her face.

The door didn’t open. The knob didn’t turn. They both stayed still in complete silence for what seemed like an eternity. Neither wanted to call out, neither wanted to budge. Both were hurt equally.

It was Solas who finally broke. She heard his hurried, barefoot ascent up the stairs and she curled in on herself more. As his arms curled around her she relented.

“Vhenan.”

They sat in silence, the sun sinking turning the light bloody and harsh. Stal left her hands and looked at the sun sinking behind the mountains. Solas rested his head upon her shoulder and joined her.

“Mas serannas, vhenan. I am weak,” she whispered.

“You are not weak,” he said, “But you are troubled. Did you not believe my words?”

She sighed. “I believe you, Solas. It’s the worst part.”

His fingers stroked her hair gently in a steady rhythm. Her body relaxed.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I’m the damn Inquisitor. Death follows me everywhere and I can’t-“ he breath hitched and she controlled it before she continued, “I can’t risk those sorts of promises.”

“You’ve lost someone.”

“I did.”

“And they-?”

“Died.”

“And you-?”

“Volunteered for the Conclave.”

Silence sat between them as the sun finally disappeared. The grey sky began to show the first stars. Stal realized she was crying again.

“If you are uncomfortable with the words I will not use them.”

Stal shook her head. “No. Use them if you mean them. But know this. If you disappear I shall never forgive you for saying them.”

There was a heavy pause before he said, “Very well.”

Stal fought the lump in her throat and won. “Ar lath ma, Solas.”

“Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

**Author's Note:**

> Eh, self-indulgent piece mostly for myself.


End file.
